The Three Times Alfred Drove Arthur Home (and once he didn't)
by Artibe
Summary: As a cab driver, Alfred had seen more things than most people. His nightly routine usually included at least three drunks, several depressed businessmen, and one Brit that he couldn't get out of his head if he tried. And he had tried, so hard. [UsUk, much fluffiness]
1. Chapter 1

As a cab driver, Alfred had seen more things than most people. His nightly routine usually included at least three drunks, several depressed businessmen, and one Brit that he couldn't get out of his head if he tried. And he had tried, so hard.

* * *

The first time Alfred met Arthur it was sunrise. In his memory, however, it was the day he fell in love. (Arthur's recollection would probably be more accurate- 'the day I cursed out an American cab driver several times without cease', but we'll go with the romantic version. Just for the heck of it.) he had been waiting in the yellow car for at least an hour for some customers, hanging around outside bars for people that either couldn't hold their liquor or could hold it far to well to finally feel the need to come home. That was what he was there for, after all. To take people home and work and back again, no stops in between.

When he had finally been hailed by a red headed man with an accent that hurt even his native New York ears, it took several minutes to get an address from him. Of course, that could have been due to the fact that he had practically been tossed out of the bar by the owner for starting a fight. Sulking ensued, and in the end, Alfred became glad that he carried candy bars in his cab. Two twix and five minutes later he had begun driving to a house on someplace called Rosewood avenue, a place that sounded much too fancy to house this sprawling man.

He was wrong. This wasn't fancy, it was worse. It was suburban. Alfred had always regarded suburbs as home to the lowest form of life ever: the family. He had not expected them to house several more gingers and a blond, who apparently found it alright to beat up their brother on the lawn while yelling at the top of their voices. At least, that was what the red haired men had done. Alfred, who still had yet to be paid for this particular trip, waited in the cab until the blond noticed him. And, being part of this family that was at odds with all that Alfred had been taught, decided to start cursing in a decidedly loud voice at him through the window of his cab.

"You complete and utter idiot! The first time in three weeks, three bloody weeks that we've gotten rid of that arsehole, and you come around bringing him back?! Are you trying to ruin the peace and quiet around here?!"

Alfred, being the sweet, naive, oblivious cab driving New Yorker that he was, grinned.

"So. You're Arthur, huh? Doesn't fit you. Can I call you Iggy? I'm gonna call you Iggy, alright? Hey, y'know you've got really thick eyebrows? People have gotta have told you that before- Shit! What was that for, Iggy?!" A pouting Alfred's eyes met glaring green as he was forced to listen to a lecture on why exactly it was improper manners to call someone you'd only just met by a nickname. As it was much too early in use morning for a lecture, at least in Alfred opinion, he tuned out.

All he knew was that five minutes later he had been paid and shooed away by the same Englishman, with strict instructions to leave and never come back to 2051, Rosewood Avenue. Not as though he paid attention to warnings. After all, nobody would get anywhere in life by playing by other people's rules and Alfred had absolutely no scruples about ignoring that. Especially if it meant he got to see Arthur again.


	2. Chapter 2

The second time, he had lost track of when it was because of Arthur's eyes.

* * *

Alfred honestly couldn't say whether a day had passed, or if it had been several weeks, though definitely not longer than that. And he certainly hadn't meant to pick him up- there were probably hundreds of cab drivers in New York City, so it was definitely a coincidence. Right? Yeah. Anyways, he had just been cruising around, looking out for anyone that needed his services (in all honesty, that was probably why he thought of himself as a hero- that he could get people to others who needed them) when he had spotted the unmistakeable waving of a hand. And, not knowing that it was the very person that had yelled at him for staring several days (or weeks) before, he naturally pulled over to the curb.

"Bloody hell..." He heard muttered through the rain spattered window, as Arthur stared at him in a mixture of disgust and surprise, finally rolling his eyes as Alfred sat there in shock. "Fine. You'll do- only so I can get home, understand? Don't do any of your creepy American cab driver things, or whatever they are." Alfred could only nod, grinning as he unlocked the door for the other and gestured for him to get in. This just earned him another eye roll, as Arthur got in and made a point of buckling his seatbelt. Perhaps that was a jab at how his own lay undone across the cracked leather seat? Ah, well, it was his cab. He may have liked Arthur, but not quite enough to put his seatbelt on for him. With a cheery whistle the young man set off, navigating through the crowded streets that were the norm in this city.

"So, what've you been up to? Haven't been giving lectures to any other American cab drivers, have ya?" It was meant as a joke, and clearly Arthur had no idea how to take one. He glared- that seemed to be his default reaction, Alfred noted- and rolled his eyes.

"What if I have?" Alfred looked shocked in the rearview mirror, much to Arthur's satisfaction, though he also wore a pout.

"Hey, that's not fair! That's practically cheatin' on me, dude, and that isn't nice!" He nodded with conviction, grinning at the frustrated look on Arthur's face as he laughed and pulled onto the street before Arthur's with a vague sense of disappointment. Had the ride always been this short? He had barely noticed the passing of street signs and traffic lights on the way to that street and apparently Arthur was just as surprised, because he cleared his throat and shook his head exasperatedly.

"You're an idiot, has anybody ever told you that before? I was joking, moron." That made Alfred grin so widely that his smile might as well have been fixed irremovably on his face. And honestly, how was he to know that the Englishman had been joking with him? The face that he used was just about the same as the one when he was yelling at him with.

"Dude, Artie, you might want to try a smile when you're joking." It had been meant as a joke, but the look on Arthur's face when he actually attempted one was priceless. Alfred had to laugh, and the irritated look Arthur gave him as he crossed his arms and got out of the car only made him grin wider. "It really helps, y'know? Just sorta completes the look."

"I know how to smile, idiot. And unfortunately for you, my name is not 'Artie'. Neither is it Iggy, or any other detestable nicknames you might find it worthwhile to come up with." Alfred pouted, but Arthur held firm. He didn't let his brothers call him by that, he didn't let the frog across the street call him that, he certainly wasn't going to let this cab driver call him that. Arthur slammed the door behind him as he turned sharply and marched up the walk, banging on the door irritated and giving him a scornful glance over his shoulder as he made him way inside.

The ginger, however- well, one of the gingers, Alfred thought his name might be Eire? Or something like that, anyway- gave him a thumbs up and a grin, presumably for having been able to piss his brother off so thoroughly. Alfred winked as he pulled away from the curb, laughing quietly to himself and shaking his head. No. He wouldn't be forgetting Arthur any time soon.


End file.
